Pencil Pushers
by YappiChick
Summary: Teyla and Ronon would never turn into pencil pushers...Right?, Team!fic


Author's Notes: This is for the prompt "Teyla is given a formal title and an office for her work assisting Woolsey in effect as an assistant administrator of the city." I tweeked it a little bit, but hopefully it still fits enough. :D I wrote this originally last year, but never posted it here. I've added a bit, making it a bit more well-rounded. As always, I'd love to know what you think. :D :D

* * *

They weren't in the mess hall.

Or the gym.

Or in Torren's nursery.

As John walked down the long hallway in Atlantis, he wondered exactly where Teyla and Ronon were. They were finally between missions and John was looking forward to spending some downtime with his friends.

Frustrated, he tapped his earpiece. "Teyla?"

She didn't respond.

"Ronon?"

Silence.

"Rodney, do you know where Teyla is?"

"Uh, yeah," Rodney said, confused. "She's in the central hub. All of us are. You should be here too."

Sheppard rolled his eyes as he made his way up the flight of stairs. Woolsey had been pushing for them to finish their report from MX-PX 3. He was surprised that Woolsey had managed to convince them to write it.

Especially Ronon.

Three days ago, Woolsey had converted one of the larger conference rooms into a central workroom. Forty neatly lined cubicles, each with their fully equipped workstations, had been set up for those on Atlantis who did not have an office of their own. The change was "necessary to insure the efficient production of field reports" as Woolsey put it.

John entered the room, walking up to where Teyla was seated. John leaned against the flimsy wall with a smirk. "Now this is a sight I never thought I would see," he commented sarcastically.

"What are you talking about?" Teyla asked defensively.

"You typing on a computer in a cubicle," he explained, shaking his head. "We could be in some building on earth." He frowned slightly. "What's up with the clothes?"

Instead of her Athosian clothes or her grey and red jacket she had become accustomed to wearing since the birth of Torren, Teyla wore an outfit that John would describe as business casual.

She frowned at his question, ignoring it. "I find it is a more conducive work environment than my quarters," she responded crisply before turning back to the computer screen.

John made a face. "You are sounding too much like Woolsey." He looked at the top of her desk, under her keyboard, and pointed. "You do _not _have a desk calendar."

Teyla shot him a disapproving look. "Organization is nothing to resent, John. I find it helps me keep track of everything. And color coding each appointment as Mr. Woolsey suggested has made my time management even more effective."

"You're joking, right?" He looked at her carefully.

She shook her head. "As Chief Off-World Treaty and Alliance Coordinator, I find I have many duties to perform."

"_Chief Off-World Treaty and Alliance Coordinator_?" he asked disbelievingly. "What is Woolsey going to come up with next? A Employee of the Month award?"

"You are speaking quite negatively," she said, frowning. "Perhaps a glance at the Wall of Inspiration will put things in perspective." She pointed to the wall next to John.

To his horror, there were half-dozen motivational posters displayed: a picture of an eagle telling him to soar, a photograph of a baseball game reminding him the importance of teamwork. Finally, he had enough. Teyla may appreciate Woolsey's rules, but all least one member of his team wouldn't be swayed.

"Where's Ronon?"

Teyla nodded to the cubical next to her. "But I would not disturb him," she warned. "He is quite focused on his game of solitaire."

Yeah right, he thought as he turned around, Ronon would never get suckered into that.

Unfortunately, John couldn't be more wrong. As he stepped through, he watched Ronon dragged a nine of diamonds on top of a ten of clubs.

"You didn't think I would miss that, did you?" he huffed to the computer.

John took a step back, recoiling in fear.

Suddenly Ronon stopped playing and tapped his earpiece, "Chief Off-World Combat Officer here, go ahead."

"Ronon," John said, thoroughly confused. "You haven't let Keller give you something, have you?"

Ronon frowned. "I don't think it's me who has the problem, Sheppard. Woolsey is only trying to streamline the effectiveness of Atlantis. If you wo--"

Rodney stuck his head inside the cubicle. "Sorry, Ronon, but I need to talk with Sheppard for a minute. He pulled out a sheet of paper from the printer. "I need you to sign this."

"What is it?" John asked, eyeing the paper suspiciously.

"A request for some time off. Woolsey suggested I go to Earth and attend a teamwork discussion group," replied Rodney. "He said I might even get to lead my own mini-seminar when I get back."

Terrified, John took a couple of steps back, bumping into Woolsey.

"See, Colonel?" Woolsey said, smirking. "I told you. Everyone can be trained."

John help up a finger. "You're wrong, Woolsey. It ends with me."

"But, it has already started, Colonel," Woolsey shot back. "Take a look."

John looked down. To his horror, he was wearing his full Air Force uniform, freshly pressed. Even his shoes shined in the lights of the City. "No!" he yelled.

************

John shot up from his bed, sweat soaking his panda shirt. It was only a dream, he thought with relief.

He sighed. What was his subconscious thinking? Teyla and Ronon would never turn into pencil pushers.

Right?

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the laptop he hardly used blinking. He walked across the room, wondering who had sent him a message. With a swift double-click, he opened the window, showing the e-mail message.

Colonel Sheppard:

Your presence is required in Conference Room A to discuss diplomatic procedures to take place on MTF-0283. Thank you for your consideration in this matter.

Teyla Emmagan

COTAC

With that, John fainted dead away.


End file.
